


It Took A While For You To Find Me

by harryisquirkeh



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A slight spin of X-MEN and Heroes, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, But Harry and Louis will get it on, But there will be sexy times, Could count as torture, Harry has been missing for a while now, Human Experimentation, I might not write smut, I will let you know if it will be in and tag accordingly, M/M, Missing Persons, OT5 Friendship, PLEASE let me know if you are worried about something I did not tag, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, also this all happens in Montreal, because Montreal is never in fics and that upsets me, maybe not too descriptive, not overly descriptive but there will still be warnings, not sure how good at it I am, scarce mentions of x-men characters, some talk of gender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:52:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3439382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryisquirkeh/pseuds/harryisquirkeh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has been missing for three years. Louis is probably the only one who can find him. Liam can create force fields, but still doesn't know his own strength. Niall can share other people's pain and Zayn can take it away. Together they can work miracles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for giving this a chance at all. First of, I'd like to thank [Daylet ](http://daysundercover.tumblr.com) for brainstorming with me and making me believe in myself. Also for keeping me focused as I wrote this first chapter (it was very hard as I want to write a billion things at once). I want to thank [Sarai](http://mytreasure1229.tumblr.com) for sending me to [Sam](http://asteriaseren2010.tumblr.com) who beta'd this for me. Also [Claire](http://mizzwilde.tumblr.com) for being such a lovely Wilde Wolfe and encouraging and infusing me with her love of writing and own amazing dedication to her works. 
> 
> The title was a bit of a hassle, but I found it or it found me. It's from the song 'The Lime Tree" by Trevor Hall. Very fitting. 
> 
> There are no warnings for this chapter as far as I know. If you see something I should tag don't hesitate to let me know! 
> 
> Also, I'm [Harryisquirkeh](http://harryisquirkeh.tumblr.com) on Tumblr as well. Come say hello?

 

 

* * *

 

 

**IT TOOK A WHILE FOR YOU TO FIND ME**

 

 

 

\-------

 

 

 

Louis.

 

His mind is reeling a bit. It’s just gone through an information dump and he’s desperately trying to connect the dots before he loses the important bits and pieces. As fast as possible, he’s making the connections, his brain sorting, storing and classifying in order of importance. The quick pitter-patter of the rain against his windshield drowns out the sound of soft classical music coming from the radio, but it’s just as well. It gives a beat to his thoughts. These sort of scenarios require rain, Louis thinks. They require a dark sky that glows purple every time thunder cuts through it, heavy drops that explode on the windshield and make visibility quasi null. These scenarios usually also have the best plots and so far this one isn't bad at all.

 

It’s not that he’s happy about it, considering that the situation is quite tragic.

 

There’s a missing child, a torn family, and a series of synchronized dead-ends that go beyond simple coincidence. Louis is a sucker for mysteries and thrilling suspense, (guilty pleasure he used to satisfy by watching Criminal Minds, until Mandy Patinkin left the show and it sort of went downhill from then on), but this time he thinks it’s the real deal. He might have truly found something worth going all the way and that makes calming his heartbeat down quite difficult. He glances at the open file on the passenger seat, and his eyes find the school picture the boy’s parents sent him this morning.

 

There’s an unusually pretty face smiling up at him. Soft pale skin, crinkled bright green eyes, a bashful smile and an endearing dimple. A bit breathtaking for a 13 year old he finds. He tried to keep a neutral face when the picture loaded on his screen. Logan was hovering around and Louis tried not to convey his immediate conclusion, that the kid is most likely dead. And if he isn't physically dead at this point, he’s gone through enough abuse to kill his spirit.

 

Louis has seen plenty of shit in the last ten years. He knows that the world has many layers and that only one strata below what the regular citizen sees every day, are the kind of horrors that will haunt a person for the rest of their days. In any case, that’s not why the Twists and the kid’s biological father Desmond Styles agreed to pay him. They don’t need his opinion on the matter, they aren't interested by how _he_ feels.

 

“Find him…. You’re our last hope.” Anne’s shaky voice said during their Skype conference call.

 

That’s his mission. He has little idea where to start, but every time he sees that little smiling face, the feeling that this will take him to places he’s never been, only gets stronger. He won’t brag about it, but deep down he knows. He’s the best at what he does. He’s never had the mission to retrieve a child before, except for the one or two spoiled and unnecessarily wealthy, drugged-up runways he’s help return to their parents. Overall, he just looks for stolen property. He’s helped museums, private collectors, business moguls or the random sentimental suburban housewife whose grandmother’s necklace went missing during the neighborhood’s last streak of robberies.

 

His record is quite impressive, if he may humbly say so and he is in high demand. He turns down people a lot, sometimes because they mistake him for a thief, other times because he’s already got too much on his plate and since his first (and last) fiasco, refuses to take on more than two missions at a time. He did call a client he accepted earlier this month, someone looking for a lost family heirloom and told them he’d have to report their contract for personal reason. He glances to his right again and that reason is frozen at thirteen years of age on glossy paper, smiling trustingly at the ceiling of his car.

 

“Where the fuck are you?” he mumbles to himself before returning his full focus to the road.  

 

After a while of being quiet, his GPS comes to life, indicating the next exit as his. The nervous feeling is sudden and his stomach ties up so quickly he curses loudly and pulls over, stopping right next to the small town’s welcome sign to suck in slow, deep breaths.

 

 

 

**BIENVENUE À PRÉCIEUX-SANG,**

**POPULATION 3031**

 

 

 

The last digit was erased and written over with a black marker it seems and Louis wants to laugh at how much this is already playing out like a cheap scary movie. He pulls out his phone and dials the number his friend Logan texted him a few hours ago. It picks up on the fifth ring.

 

“Hello!” a voice says and then a cacophony of laughter joins the man on the phone.

 

“It’s Louis… Wolf gave me your number.” he tries to say loud enough.

 

There a hissing ‘shhhh’ sound and the laughter fades. Louis imagines the man probably stepped away.

 

“Yeah, yeah of course. I’m Niall. Listen… stay where you are, I’ll come find you.”

 

“Oh. Okay, I’m at the—“

 

“I know. I see you. I’ll be there in 20.”

 

 

+

 

 

Niall’s precision is impressive to say the least, and in exactly 20 minutes he’s knocking at the passenger side’s window, almost startling Louis out of his skin. The man looks more like a boy when he slips in after Louis’ unlocked the door. He’s laughing loudly, hair wet and sticking to his forehead, blue eyes crinkled and cheeks rosy.

 

“You should see your face mate.” he says and clutches his stomach from laughing so hard.

 

Now that Louis has him face to face he can place the accent, Irish and very Westmeath (Louis’ been there on vacation once). He can’t help wondering how this thoroughly Irish man-boy, found himself in some remote little Quebec town.

 

“S’not that funny.” Louis mumbles, endeared despite himself. The boy’s glee is too genuine for him to get caught up on his ego.

 

He’s not worried. Logan told him Niall was as trustworthy as they come, and Louis would place his life in Logan’s hands.

 

“Sorry… sorry. Let me see this.” Niall says, laughter turning into chuckles.

 

Louis barely hesitates to hand him the file. Niall opens it and sets in on his lap, picking up the picture, face suddenly serious. His index traces the little boy’s features and Louis watches intently. Niall’s eyes flutter a bit, his brows creasing and bottom lip pouting. The inside of the car feels stuffy all of a sudden, the pressing silence only disturbed by the relentless deluge outside.  

 

Louis stills when Niall’s face blanches and contorts.

 

He’s desperate to say something or to hear something. Were it anyone else, he’d have peeked in their mind already, but it’s someone like him, albeit with a different gift, but it’s a peer and he doesn’t use his powers on his peers.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, when Niall nervously sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth.

 

“I can’t see him. There’s the shape of him, but I can’t get a hold of anything.”

 

“What do you mean?” he tries to keep the panic out of his voice, but Niall is obviously distressed by something and that makes Louis’ skin prickle with goosebumps.

 

“He’s not dead. I can feel his energy, I just can’t see his face. He’s like a shadow.”

 

“How does that happen?” Louis asks, a bit frantically. How does Niall’s ability work anyway?

 

“Someone’s hiding him real well… I reckon someone who knows there are people like me who can find him. That’s… that’s not a good sign.”.

 

“Look you’ve got to give me more than this, Please”

 

“I can’t… I don’t know why but—”

 

“I’ve never searched for a missing kid before… I’m swimming in dark waters here… I-I talked to his parents just this morning. I promised  them quick results and you’re supposed to be the one to give me that. I can’t go back with nothing—.”

 

“S’not nothing you idiot!” Niall snaps, eyes still glued to the photo. “It means it isn’t some random perv on the side of the street doing this. It’s people who got enough money to hide shit properly. Is he one of us?”

 

Louis doesn’t ask how Niall knows he’s also got special abilities. Logan probably told him. If not, the boy found out the moment they spoke on the phone.

 

“I’m not sure?. He’s only 16,  so he definitely went through the screening. If he’s an Unclassified, someone somewhere definitely knows...”

 

“Well if he is, he’s on file and he’s probably popped up on someone’s radar somewhere. He looks young for 16, maybe—”

 

“That’s an old picture. He’s been missing three years.”

 

Niall’s face falls, eyes growing sad in an instant.

 

“Well then maybe he’s not hidden. Maybe his energy is just so low, he’s all blurry to me. I’m sorry. I wish I could help more.” Niall says, handing the picture back to him.

 

Louis tries to fight his discouragement. After all, this is only his first recourse. Just a chance he took to try and get this over with quickly. A lazy cop-out .

 

“What’s his name?” Niall asks, breaking Louis out of his thoughts.

 

“Harry. Harry Edward Styles.”

 

“Where from?”

 

“Montreal. Well, that’s where he went missing from...”

 

“Okay…. I promise nothing, but I’ll ask around alright?”

 

Louis nods and smiles slightly. Niall steps out and back in the rain that has tamed down to a light drizzle. He throws Louis the peace sign and tilts his snapback before slamming the door shut.

 

Louis has no idea where to go from there besides home.

 

His sleep is fitful, borderline nightmarish, and he brusquely wakes up a few times, Harry’s hand slipping from his and the boy falling into a dark abyss, mouth opened in a silent scream. He’s up at the crack of dawn feeling like he got no rest at all. There are too many unanswered questions, too little information on who or what Harry Styles was. He starts by calling Logan, letting him know how the encounter with Niall went.

 

“...said he couldn’t sense him, or see him. Something like that.”

 

“Maybe both. Usually he senses them and then he can see them, but, I don’t know Louis... be careful with this. If he’s one of us and he’s being hidden, then it’s probably by people who know about us. It’s not one of your regular rounds.”

 

“Of course it isn’t. This is a child, not some fucking relic.”

 

“I know Louis, I know. I mean that this could get really dangerous if you cross the wrong people.”

 

Louis sighs. He’s been in a couple of bad fixes before, got caught in crossfire over vases and old decrepit paintings. This time around, he feels like it would actually be worth it. Feels like he’d gladly dodge a bullet or two if it means bringing a kid back to his parents.

 

“I can’t do it alone Logan. Do you think Niall would mind?”

 

“He won't. He owes me a favor anyways. Just call him. And **be** careful.”

 

“Thanks. And I will bro. Always I'm.”

 

 

+

 

 

It takes Niall nearly three hours to drive into the city, despite it being a Saturday morning with very little traffic, but Louis gladly waits for him with a box of warm muffins in hand and two thermoses of hot tea. The moment he gets out of the car and sees Louis, a wide smile spreads across his face.

 

“You know the way to a man’s heart.” Niall says, pointing at the food in Louis’ possession.

 

“I’m a right charmer apparently. Can’t be denied anything.” Louis teases, feeling light and suddenly relieved to see him.

 

Though they only met for the first time the previous night, Niall pulls him into a prolonged hug. Louis is only startled for half a second, before he melts in the embrace.

 

“You okay? You look like you haven’t slept much.”

 

“I haven’t actually. I kept having nightmares.” Louis admits.

 

“I guess I understand. Look, let’s get going.The faster we get there, the faster we get answers to your questions. Right?”

 

It’s another hour on the road for Niall and Louis as they drive up to Saint-Lazare after a quick call to Harry’s parents. Niall reads through the file that has remained remarkably thin even three years later, familiarizing himself with the case. He takes mental notes for lack of anything better to do since he’s still unable to get a better sense of where the boy might be.

 

Saint-Lazare is lovely by all standards. It’s full of trees and cozy looking brick homes with long serpentine driveways, or the occasional farm and flock of grazing animals. The roads are narrow,  go up and down and around and Louis loves it there, simply for the distinct noiselessness when he compares it to the surrounding neighborhood of his downtown bachelor pad.

 

The Styles haven’t always lived here. They’re from old money and before getting established in the suburbs, had a disproportionate house in Sunnyside & Edgehill at the very heart of the city. But that’s the house that allowed strangers in, the house that despite bars and a guard dog, couldn’t stop invaders from taking their son from them. They left and never looked back.

 

The house is just as lush and grand as the one they had in Montreal, but sits at the end of a mile long swiveling gravel road. Niall can’t help his impressed whistle at the mix of dark and pale grey bricks, wide windows with white shutters and crispy white porch pillars.

 

“You didn’t tell me they were filthy rich…. are you getting paid for this?”

 

Louis fidgets, face flushed pink and nods.. He knows he’s not doing it only for the money though. He’s not even charging them his full fee. Despite the Twists being well-off, they’ve gotten themselves into deep debts over private investigators and rallies and search parties that brought nil.

 

They say, ‘one man’s loss is another one’s gain’. Sort of his life’s motto, which he usually repeats nonchalantly, except for now, because well, no one should lose a child.

 

The sound of crunching gravel must’ve been loud enough, or maybe she was looking out the window awaiting their arrival, but they don’t get to ring the bell before the door swings open. Anne, Harry’s mother is standing in the entryway with wide eyes and her bottom lip tucked tightly between her teeth. There’s too much hope in her face, but it fades quickly when she notices the slight shake of Louis’ head. Her shoulders slump and  Robin is quickly by her side wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

 

“Mr. Tomlinson—”

 

“Just Louis… please call me Louis.”

 

“Louis. Come in.”

 

“Thanks…. um, this is Niall. I brought him along. He can help.”

 

“Okay. It’s alright. Let’s go to the living room. Do you want coffee, tea?” Anne offers.

 

“No thanks. I made us some tea before we left, but I could use the bathroom.” Louis says and Niall nods along.

 

He seems a bit intimidated and nervous, so Louis doesn’t say anything when Niall tails him down the hall Anne points him to.

 

“Wait here.” he says with a smile, when they get to the door, putting an open palm against Niall’s chest and making him smile in return.

 

Niall nods, standing in the hall, bouncing on the ball of his feet, taking in the cozy country French decor.

 

 

 

 

Niall.

 

The house feels familiar to him oddly, reminds him of when he was a little boy and went with his mum to the homes she cleaned for a living. That’s when it first dawned on him that he was different. It was scary to always feel so much of everything and for a long time, his parents thought he was born deficient or was ailed by a mental illness.

 

The furniture and knick-knacks in the houses where she took him were often very old  and always had load of stories attached to them. He would brush his fingers against the curves of a small china doll and see a little girl in a sky blue, embroidered cotton dress running down the street, clutching said doll in her sweaty little palm. He would rest on a old settee and be engulfed in afternoon tea and whispered gossip under wide feathered hats.

 

He stopped telling his parents about it when they took him to a priest.

 

They thought all the praying and reciting got rid of ‘those weird dreams you have’, but he kept them secret even though they only grew stronger as he grew older. It was hard concealing them, hiding his momentary freak-outs under coughing fits that eventually earned him a visit to the doctor.

 

He lives alone now. Left home when he realized there was help to be offered and people just like him who didn’t come into acceptance of their gifts as easily. He has tried to keep friends who are trustworthy enough to be let in on his secret or don't mind his weird moments. He hasn’t had to explain anything to anyone when he’s frozen on the spot, trapped in a vision, or having someone else’s flashback. He gets funny looks, maybe… but it comes with the territory and he’s made peace with it.

 

In this long hall, only lit by a curtainless double-hung window at the end, nothing is truly old. Every piece of furniture is a very accurate replica of an older style, but holds none of the history...except maybe, for the gold-trimmed mirror hanging over a small console table a few steps away. It looks old, a bit faded and Niall crosses the distance, hand out in front of him, placing it on the dusty glass without hesitation. Images comes crashing down on him just as Louis makes his exit from the bathroom. He keens softly, the sound halting Louis in his footsteps. Niall is rooted in place, his whole body tense, one hand splayed against the mirror, the other gripping the side of the table.

He’s struck with the image of a teen who would resemble Harry, if it wasn’t for the appearing freckles, the tight locks uncurling and falling down hunched shoulders in a cascade of wavy ginger hair and the eyes going from green to a fear-veiled light blue. There’s a piercing scream before the teen collapses and Niall snaps back to reality.

 

He only blinks once before Louis’ right next to him, hands out ready to catch him if he was to fall.

 

“Y’alright?” he asks, when Niall leans towards him.

 

He wraps his arms around the boy’s waist and pulls him close because he’s so shaky, his legs might give out at any moment. Louis locks them both in the bathroom and slowly slides down to the ground, gently pulling Niall along with him. Niall settles, head resting on Louis’ shoulder as he tries to even out his breathing pattern.

 

“There was something… wrong with him. I think he’s one of us. If that’s him I saw.”

 

Louis straightens and whispers harshly: “An Unclassified?”

 

“Yeah…he was in front of the mirror there and his face changed. I’m not sure how that happens, but he was himself—like the picture you showed me and the next second he was some ginger girl with freckles and blue eyes.”

 

Louis’ face pinches and he shakes his head.

 

“That impossible Niall. I mean I know we can do pretty unusual things, but this…”

 

“You can read minds Louis, and I can know you read minds and which minds you’ve read just by touching you! Morphing and shit, it isn’t that farfetched.”

 

"I know... it's just—how does that happen?"

 

"I haven't got a fucking clue mate."

 

"Okay, let's say he can in fact ‘transform’. It makes him one of us... how do we know it has anything to do with him missing?" Louis asks.

 

"Well, we don't, but it's a clue I guess. Look we should go back. We've been here for at least 10 minutes already."

 

The return to the living room is a bit awkward seeing as the whole family is seated there, nervously waiting.

 

"Sorry about that...I was feeling a bit lightheaded." Niall says as Louis stirs him towards the nearest available seat.

 

The family shares a look with each other before nodding in understanding.

 

"Do you have news for us already?" Anne asks, a tinge of disbelief in her voice.

 

"I'm sorry Mrs. Twist... not yet." Louis says apologetically.

 

He wants to tell her it's only been a day, that he's good, but that’s he’s also only human. Even if that would be a bit of a lie.

 

"I need to know more about him. I looked over the file. Over the work of detective Mayer and then Ross and Winfrey... and they all hit a dead end at some point. No one can think of a moment or of something different that happened in his life. This abduction Mrs Twist, it was done by professionals. Its was thoroughly thought out and executed. I mean, there wasn't even a speck of anything out of place. Not a drop of water, no a smudge, not—" 

 

"What? Do you think we killed him then? ‘Cause they’ve been down that road before… and that was the worse thing they could’ve done to us during that time. I won’t stand—” Robin interrupts angrily. 

 

“No, no that's not what I'm insinuating at all! We're just trying to understand. I mean, there had to have been a reason. Obviously he didn't  vanish into thin air. Someone took him and that someone took him for a specific reason. No matter how horrific, we have to explore all the possibilities." Louis quickly clarifies.

 

"We have already Mr. Tomlinson. It was torment."

 

"Just Louis please... it's just—I need a starting point."

 

"What Louis here means is, he wants to know if you noticed something off about your son. Was he more withdrawn or quiet? Did he complain about someone, something? A pain,  a new pimple, a pebble in his shoe… constipation?" Niall cuts in.

 

Louis understand the exasperation, though the outraged face of both parents make him fear that they’ll sack him. It's only been a day, but he's formed an attachment. He feels way too invested to back away now and it isn't even about the money. He simply needs to see this through, needs to find this kid. He gives Niall's thigh a discreet squeeze but the boy jerks away before frowning at him.

 

"It's said a bit rough, but every detail counts. You might think it’s not important, just ‘cause it’s in front of you every day, but it can completely turn this around, y’know?" Niall adds, this time more gently.

 

"He had awful migraines?" Gemma, the sister that's been quiet so far, offers.

 

She’d be a carbon copy of her brother, (pretty with a round face and wide green eyes, rosy lips and a set of dimples) except for her hair that’s straight, long and dyed a dirty blond. She’s fidgety and Louis wonders if she’s ever witnessed any of her brother’s episodes or transformations. If she might have held on to this secret for the three years her brother has been missing, if it eats at her heart with the need to crawl out and be exposed. He could easily find out, but at the risk of exposing himself.

 

"Yeah? Migraines...and?" Louis asks and glares at her, waiting for their eyes to meet.

 

_"Anything unnatural?"_

 

Louis knows the exact moment when his voice echoes in her mind. He sees her eyes grow big and hears the sharp intake of breath she takes. The reaction is quite controlled and it's clear to Louis that this isn't her first encounter with the unnatural. Given Niall's reaction to visions of her brother, what she saw with her own eyes was probably quite traumatic and Louis invading her thoughts doesn't hold in comparison. He doesn't want to pressure her, but the parents are too passive, too numb after three years of unfulfilled expectations. They don’t have the wit presently required from them.

 

 _"Take Niall with you and show him Harry’s things. You guys kept them, right?"_  Louis asks.

 

She nods her head subtly, her eyes darting over to her parents. They’re still wringing their hands and startle when she gets up abruptly.  It’s done though, her eyes remain as wide as saucers even as she gets up and asks Niall if he wants to see some of Harry’s things. That leaves Louis and the parents in the living room and that might be his only chance to pick at their brains.

 

"All his stuff is in this room my parents made for him." Gemma says, as they go up a flight of stairs located in the kitchen.

 

“They brought all his stuff here. Even put his posters back on the wall.”

 

Niall doesn't answer, just follows quietly and keeps his hands to himself. They walk down a long carpeted hall and Niall right away knows that the room at the end, with a crooked handwritten 'keep out, PLEASE' sign is Harry's, or would be Harry's. Niall’s heart feels heavy at the thought that this sign was probably also on his door in his old house, but that his wishes were blatantly disrespected by the worse kind of people.

 

The door creaks open and Niall follows Gemma in reverently. The inside of Harry's room isn't really what he expected. The bedroom's white walls are adorned with posters, like for most teenagers, but Harry's choices are a weird split of old rock stars and scientific things Niall wouldn't grasp even if he rolled his whole naked body on them. They all have to do with biology though, and he decides to keep that in mind. There are a panoply of Lord of the Rings posters as well, three of footballers, and a cute one of a basket full of kittens.  Just under the casement  window at the opposite side his bed is a small desk. There are scattered papers, and as he gets closer, Niall realizes they are drawings of people. Boys and girls seemingly of Harry's age. One of them looks exactly like the redhead reflected in the bathroom mirror.  He shivers at the memory and continues touring the room, spots a collection of used, leather-bound diaries. A guitar with a broken string, on the night table an alarm clock with a blinking time that's off by a couple of hours; a statue of a person (probably a foreign deity) in a circle, with its with multiple arms reaching out. He dares not touch it. 

 

It’s as if his old room was just transposed here, however it used to be arranged. It looks lived in even though Anne is probably the only one to ever come in here, the little shrine she concocted for herself, in her son’s memory.

 

He looks over at Gemma and isn't surprised when he find her eyes glued to him.

 

"Can you do... are you like him? Like Louis?" she asks, her voice little and tentative.

 

He can't help himself when he sees the journal and the used crayon right next to it on the bedside table. Niall nods and runs his left hand over the journal covers and his body seizes. Eyes shutting down tightly and jaw clenching. Pain zips through him, pain so sharp and so vivid that he suddenly can’t breathe, can't even find it in himself to scream. His head spins, muscles spasming and he thinks he might pass out, but he stumbles and that pulls his hand away. He nearly collapses on himself when the pain fades and it's completely out of his control when he starts sobbing, palms pressed to his face as he tries to catch his breath and forget.

 

"He was in so much pain, so much. Oh God… He was in so much fucking pain." he sobs into his hands, feeling right on the edge of complete panic.

 

There's a soothing voice in his mind though, a soft and calming tone that reminds him what he's here for, what he's suppose to accomplish by looking at Harry’s personal effects. He tries to find his breath, to calm his heartbeat and focus on the beautiful images of waterfalls and flower fields suddenly permeating every corner of his mind. He silently thanks Louis and can feel how pleased he is, even from his position of the sofa downstairs.

 

"Was he?" Gemma's voice is tentative and breaks through his thoughts, bringing him back to Harry's room, to teenage angst and to something darker and more complicated than what a thirteen year old boy should have to deal with.

 

"There are many of us Gemma. Harry is like us, isn't he?  I saw him... I saw what happened to him in front of the mirror. The changes..."

 

She looks at him warily, eyes bulging out and nods.

 

"How did you see, how do you know?"

 

"I told you I was like Louis... me I don't talk in people's mind though. I just see things. Like when I touched his book here. I can feel things. I can feel his emotions and I can also feel his physical pain. It’s just never been, _so much_."

 

"I didn't know! I promise I didn't." she wails, tears quickly pouring out of her eyes. "I tried telling my parents you know... that Harry was different. I told them what I saw happening to him. He could change, become other people, but they said I couldn't talk about it, said people would lock me up for being crazy."

 

"You're not crazy. It would sound like it to the everyday guy, but this is fuckin' real. And it's not your fault. No one really knows how to deal with this I guess."

 

There is a moment of silence, when they both just look around the room, see trinkets made for a thirteen year old, books and movies in a pile a box of tissue, pills...

 

"What's that?" Niall says, walking over and pointing at an empty yellow vial, discarded amongst pens and marbles and a purple Nintendo Ds on Harry's desk.

 

Gemma follows and picks it up, her face growing troubled, her bottom lip sticking out as she reads over the prescription quickly. Nialls takes more mental notes.

 

"His hormones." Gemmas simply says, tossing back on the desk and turning away as if upset.

 

"Why?"

 

"He had some health issues? I don't know... his body was doing strange things. At first Mum looked it up on the internet first. Asked around, but it got more intense so she took him to see the doctor. Got some ultrasounds done... he was actually growing like a uterus, and then breasts and it was all happening in the same month. The doctor freaked out, got him to do all sort of shit, like blood and urine tests. Put him on these pills and antidepressants. " she explains, gesturing towards the discarded vial.

 

And just like that Niall knows why Harry went missing. It's not the work of some pervert, it's not for ransom (well that was made clear years ago when no money was demanded),  it's not a spoiled teen running away either. From what Louis told him about the case, the utter lack of physical evidence of any sort,  it was pretty clear from the get-go, but this just confirms it. They can stop running in circles. He's now certain of what they need to look for and who they should go after.

 

Harry is one of them, he's an Unclassified who got found out because he went to a government institution for help and was tracked down like many others before him.

 

They go back to the living room and Niall keeps specific questions at the front of his mind, willing Louis to peep into his thoughts and get a hold of them. Louis glances back at him quickly and nods before they get back in their seats, Gemma clutching herself, but her face set and confident as she stares directly at Louis.

 

"Look I— I'm not gonna lie. This whole situation would be a total dead-end, and I'd probably give up—"

 

Anne takes a sharp breath, her head shaking quickly.

 

"—but I know you're holding back from me. I know what you think. That if Gemma here says anything she'll be labeled crazy."

 

Robin eyebrows curve down.

 

"That if you tell me what was REALLY going on with Harry, I'll run out this door so quick... I won't—"

 

"What are you trying to say?" Robin asks, voice low and gruff.

 

Anne tries to pat his knee in a calming way, but he jerks away, leans forward and points his finger at Louis, voice sharp and anger barely controlled.

 

"Someone broke in, took our son. We told you everything. Now do what we pay you for."

 

Louis decides to ignore him. He lets the words fall around him, but he glares at Anne until her hands are gripping the chair's arms.

 

_"You know the truth."_

 

She yelps so loudly, she almost jumps off her chair, but Louis placates her quickly before Robin is alerted, telling her that just like Harry, he’s different. That there are so many more of them out there, and eventually her whitening knuckles gain back their colour and she slumps slightly in her chair.

 

"We should go. We've got lots to do to find Harry." Niall says, getting up.

 

Louis nods and follows. Besides Gemma, the Twists won't be much help. Anne seems more worried about keeping Robin under control and calm, rather than speaking up and saying what she knows. They might not get anything more out of her. Besides, Niall's gathered enough from Gemma to spin the whole investigation in another direction.

 

 

+

 

 

For the first ten minutes of the ride back, both boys are very quiet, mind still processing the strange encounter with the Twist family. There's also the fact that they both exposed themselves to perfect strangers, this at the possible cost of their own lives, to try and find a kid who might already be dead.

 

"If they were the enemy, we'd probably already have cars chasing us, right?" Louis asks, needing reassurance.

 

"Probably. They're not the enemy. Robin is just a sad, raging asshole. No real harm... except that he thinks ignoring a thing will make it go away. Me Da’ was the same. Don't work like that." Niall answers.

 

"Right... but they could tell us more if he'd let them."

 

"I know enough. I touched his diary. It was on his bedside—"

 

"Was that all the pain... I felt you drifting away a bit."

 

Niall fidgets a bit, face flushing red. He feels like borrowing just a tad bit of someone's pain shouldn't be such a big deal. He doesn't want to think about how it actually felt for Harry. Having your whole body shift around, grow new parts, only to have them suddenly disappear. Then to grow them again, but differently, because you're yet another person.

 

"I probably would've gone crazy.... having to go through that?" Niall shakes his head and exhales loudly.

 

"Same... that's too much. I don't know how he went through it. He's stronger that he appears... much stronger. He has to be alive."

 

This new wave of certainty doesn't falter as Louis makes it back Downtown and parks his car in the same spot it was in earlier. He's got his ways of making sure no one ever takes this parking space.

 

"We can walk for a bit. I need to see some people at the Museum." Louis says pointing down the road.

 

Rue de la Commune is always busy, no matter what time of the day it is, but it's summer and it's brunch time. All the small café terrasses are overflowing, boisterous laughter is mixing with the sounds of the city, the smell of the salty port water and the clicking of horse hooves on the cobbled streets.

 

They pass a pub that's full, every table on the terrasse occupied by more than four people, one or two oozing pitchers sitting in the middle.

 

"I've got to have a pint before I tackle the drive back." Niall said, looking over with envy as the sun beats down on them.

 

Louis turns to him with a crinkled smile.

 

"F'course. I'll show you around a bit if you're not too tired."

 

"No, never too tired for a cold brew."

 

The inside of the museum is a quiet wave of fresh air. Niall sticks close to Louis, walks around glass cases and red roped Grecian artifacts.  In any other circumstance he'd have a look around, but Louis is walking with determination and somehow is dragging him along, mind and body totally compliant.  Maybe it's so he won't remember, won't be able to retrace his step because it's not his own mind doing the work. He doesn't mind too much. He'd rather not know, lest someone tries to wring it out of him.

 

He find himself in a basement minutes later, Louis looking at him apologetically.

 

"Don't...don't worry." Niall reassures. "Logan told me it'd be like this and I understand why... s'long as I get my pint later, all is forgiven." he adds, wrapping an arm around Louis' shoulders.

 

The basement is cool and dry, brick walls lined with big wooden boxes covered with border stickers and random graffiti. He makes sure to stay away from them. He's not sure what they contain and what history may lie within. He's not willing to go through memory trips right now, especially when it comes to artifacts that have lived through hundreds of sun turns. They walk down a long, dim-lit hall and make a left. It's a dead-end. There an antique, fridge buzzing loudly in the corner and a tall metal trashcan filled with folded pizza boxes next to it. There's an arch in the left wall and a pale light coming from it.

 

"Come on boys!" a high pitched voice calls, just as they walk in.

 

It's a tiny room, filled from wall to wall with small, medium and giant screens. Niall's eyes roam quickly over them, his mouth agape at the sight. He can make out ever changing images of the subway, people waiting on platforms occupied in various manners, people in line at fast-food chains, at the bank, traffic, even inside schools.

 

"Whoa, whoa! Holy shit..." he says, a bit of marvel in his voice.

 

"Yeah, I tend to have that effect on people." the voice says.

 

He looks down at the person just as they wink, and spins back around in their office chair. All he manages to see is a flash of rainbow hair in a ponytail.

 

"S'my sister. Niall this is Lotus, my second in comman—"

 

"Oh don't flatter yourself!" she says, spinning back to face Niall.

 

She extends her hand and he shakes it quickly. She has a pretty round face, wide blue eyes and a small plush mouth. Even with such gentle features, she emanates an incredible amount of fierceness. She has a strong grip that squeezes his hand quickly before, she goes back to her computer screens. He notices that all the screens stilled while she wasn't looking.

 

"She runs this whole things." Louis explains knowingly.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"She dabbles in electronics. She can enter any network, trudge around in the virtual world. She's like free Wi-Fi."

 

"That's borderline rude Louis. Don't say it again." she says, affecting a serious air.

 

He  puts his hands up in mock fear, taking a step back, eyes like saucers and just then, a man Niall easily recognizes walks in. He tall and muscular, shoulders broad, neck thick, face fierce and framed by long wavy, black hair.

 

"Logan!"

 

There's an exchange of hugs and pleasantries, before Louis relates their morning to him. How Harry was definitely one of them and that the best, most certain direction to look in right now is Genesis.

 

"The mother went online to do research.... like 'you're child is growing a uterus, what do you do' type of questions."

 

Logan winces. "A shifter? They're so rare."

 

"Probably." Niall puts in. "I saw some crazy things when I touched his stuff. Lots of pain too. Like too much for a 13 year old. I think something was wrong with him to be honest. Maybe it's the hormones he was on. Body had to do double the work."

 

"Hormones?" Lotus asks, turning in her chair and abandoning her screens. They still completely.

 

"To counteract the changes in his body I assume. Maybe the doctor thought it was just some obscure disease that had him grow female internal organs in the space of a month." Louis says.

 

His tone is snappy and dry, even though he tries to school is features into indifference, tries to pretends this kid missing isn’t affecting him more than any other contract would.

 

"Okay but if Genesis does have him, it's probably her internet research that tipped them off in the first place and then going to the doctor probably." Niall adds.

 

"Right, so how do I find him?"

 

They all look down at the tiny rainbow haired girl sitting in the swivel chair in front of them and Louis' mouth forms a pout. He'd hoped to gain enough information from the parents so that they wouldn't have to involve more people, especially not his own little sister. There's nothing he can do about it now, she'll shut down the neighborhood if he tries to keep her out of the loop at this point. And even if she's not the only one who can search the internet for clues about Harry, she's the only one who can bypass the conventional methods. When it comes to finding information, she gives Google a run for their money.

 

"Right. I have a picture of him, but first, Lots you've got to promise me to-"

 

"-be careful and get away if it gets too risky."

 

"Can I talk? Am I allowed to fret over my little sister?"

 

"It's annoying and blasé at this point. I'm not even sure I believe in your concern anymore."

 

Niall cackles a bit a that and Louis ignores him in favor of invading his sister's mind with guilt.

 

"Stop it! Alright I'll be careful... you're worse than Mum. Now show me."

 

Louis hands her the file and watches as she slowly thumbs through it, eyes skimming over the copies of police reports and investigation notes. Then she lands on Harry's picture and her face crumples.

 

"He's so young." she says in a low voice.

 

"He was thirteen then. He's 16 years old now. He might look different. I mean he got older and _he is_ a shifter."

 

"M'kay. What do they do exactly?"

 

"He can change his appearance. Or maybe it just happens to him. I don't know if he can control it... yet."

 

"Okay... so how do I find him?"

 

"I... You have to infiltrate Genesis."

 

"Oh."

 

"Right? So, soon as you feel a threat you leave right away."

 

He can tell she's nervous now. Genesis is the only institution capable of tracking down biological intelligence. Usually, when she hacks a system, she easily disguise herself as a simple virus, something a teen might do out of boredom on a Saturday night, something easily fixed by the IT department. But Genesis knows there are people like her out there, they'll have means to keep her away, or traps to catch her if she isn't extremely careful... and the more Louis thinks about it, the more he doesn't want her to do it.

 

"I know what you're thinking Louis. Don't have to read minds for that. I won't get caught." she promises, extending her pinky finger out to him.

 

He catches it, curling his own pinky around it, and gives her small hand a shake.

 

 

+

 

 

Images are flying past them, crowds, solitary figures at bus stops, missing person posters, even people in their homes, depending on if their have security systems or computers with cameras on them. Louis doesn’t want to be impatient, but he tries to limit his sighs, not wanting to disturb her as she scans every corner of the virtual world, especially in the light of probable danger. Except all he has to occupy him is the humming of the three computers in the room, fans going full speed to keep them cool as Lotus does her work. There’s also the old fridge that Louis would resent less if it contained cold beer. He led Niall out to get them some, and the boy has been gone for a while after texted Louis to say he stopped to grab food as well.

 

He almost  throws himself on the ground in his haste to sit up in his swivel chair when his sister shouts his name.

 

“I saw him Louis! I saw him! I had him for a minute… he’s in a home. There’s a security system and it kicked me out. I need to…”

 

Louis hovers behind her, pacing behind her chair as she continues to glare at her screens, watching what seems to be the same images passing by and then Louis realise it’s a decoy. That for the past 30 minutes she’s been trying to break into the same network. He can hear footsteps echo against the stone walls of the hallway and soon they’re joined by a heavy breathing Logan.

 

“What’s happened? I heard shouting.” he asks, slotting his massive body next to Louis'.

 

“She fuckin’ found him, but she got kicked out of the system—”

 

“Lotus get out of there. Now, get out!” Logan shouts, stepping in front of Louis.

 

He's known Logan for a few years now, has seen him in different emotional states, but he's never seen him scared before and that makes Louis panic right away.

 

“I found him, wait!” Lotus protests, jumping out of the chair as Logan yanks it away from the computers to distract her.

 

She never falters, until all her screens are suddenly almost too bright to look at and a bleached room appears. The image is frozen, but on the tiny bed of faded grey sheets, sit a small figure of pale skin and dull green eyes set in a tired face framed with curly brown hair.

 

Louis’ stomach constricts and loosen as both anxiety and relief wash over him. He’s alive. He’s alive and he’s grown, even if he looks feeble and… and simply off. There’s no light in his eyes, no hint of all the liveliness that emanates from the 13 year old on the picture. He doesn’t want to think of how that came to be.

 

“Lots, can you tell us where that is? Did you see any markers? Lots?”

 

They all approach her, as she stands ramrod straight in front of her desk, hands clutching the keyboard in front of her tightly. She’s not making a sound and Louis goes to grab her, when Logan blocks him with one strong arm. When they look at her face, her eyes are as white as the image projected in front of them, mouth slack and trapped in a silent scream, fear evident in her frozen expression. Louis turns to Logan who seems just as terrified.

 

“They trapped her.” is all he offers in barely audible voice.

 

Louis slumps, but Logan catches him with one arm around his waist, holding him as he sinks to the ground.

 

“No… no, no, no. Fuck no.” he moans.

 

“We need to get those fuckers.” Logan says gravelly. “We need to get ‘em and destroy ‘em.”

 

Silence falls in the room, eerie and only disturbed by Louis’ heavy breathing. All they have to go is that frozen image. The image of a kid who’s made a sudden reappearance from where Genesis has both his mind and body just as equally trapped.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This chapters contains talk of human experimentation, emotional and physical distress as well as mentions of blood. Please thread easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers,
> 
> Before anything else, I wanna apologize for the absurd amount of time it took me to update this. There are multiple reasons for it, but none are valid enough I find, or maybe just... it's won't change the fact that I took waaaayyyy too long with it. Thanks to all those who sent me encouraging message on tumblr, or even commented and left kudos. You mean the world to me. I want to also apologize to my beta Sam, I have been a pain in the butt. This is unbeta'd simply because I can't rush her, and I do want to post this today. I revised it myself, so any mistakes are on me. Hope you can still enjoy it, and I won't be so annoying with the third chapter as my heart and soul are in a better place right now and I have a week of vacay coming up! Also I am working on another fic, so my creative juices are flowing. 
> 
> Last but not least, I changed my tumblr name. I am now [loopdelouis](http://loopdelouis.tumblr.com)!!

 

Liam.

 

His boots squeak as he walks down the freshly mopped linoleum tiles of the first floor and the pitchy sound echoes in the empty hall as he makes his first round of the night. He feels hollow, like there is too much space within himself, too much space in his mind and nothing good to fill it with.  He tries not to think, because his stomach will lurch again and at this point he’s only running on bile.

 

Even if the helmet he wears prevents his thoughts from being accessed or messed with, the thoughts are there because they're his. He wishes he could stop them, that the helmet could block them out, only as a mean to preserve himself. He’s conflicted, disappointed and even a little afraid if he’s honest.

 

He’s not the type to sit around idly and watch bad things happen to other people. He doesn’t have a savior complex either, but he just can’t be passive about pain. He has his reason, has been hurt around unconcerned people who barely spared him a glance and he promised himself, promised that that would never be him.

 

He stops at a door, peaks into the small shielded window, eyes roaming the room. The first count of the night is a tiny shape huddled under thin covers. All Liam sees is a little green scaled foot peeking out, yellow nailed and so, so small.

 

He can’t help but wonder how such a young child ended up here. If they were abandoned by their parents, or as it dawned on him today that it was a possibility, brought here against their will. It makes his skin crawl. Makes him hot with shame that he’s been a part of this, part of securing this place and keeping these kids in the conditions he witnessed this morning. The small pale face won’t leave his mind, the wide and terrified green eyes darting from a person to another, the screeching wail that still vibrates within his sternum. A nervous tremor travels from his head, down to his every extremity, making his fingers throb at the thought of what he wanted to do. _He’s not supposed to remain passive_ when others are in danger and the desire to engulf the curly headed kid in his arms was so strong, he knows he would’ve involuntary projected a force field if it wasn’t for fear of something worse. He didn’t do anything and his mind won’t let up. He’s a guilt-ridden coward.

 

It probably isn’t too late to act, though he wouldn’t know where or how to start. He’s never been too clever with making plans, or dispensing retaliation. He simply comes to the conclusion that he can’t allow this to go on. He finishes his round on the first floor and takes the elevator to the second floor, another empty hall of metal doors and squeaky clean floors.

 

Just as he's done looking through the first window, watching an invisible form shift under the grey covers, the elevator door further down the hall opens and out comes who he’s come to know as Zayn, flanked by two guards on each side. Liam doesn't yet understand his role, doesn't know why he seems to have quite a lot of liberties, but is also escorted everywhere he goes.

 

When things went bad with the boy earlier today, Zayn was brought in so quickly, Liam thought his ability was probably something in the line of teleportation or super speed, but he was ordered out of the room before he could find out.

 

Harry.

 

That was the boy's name. Liam halts, watches as Zayn and his impassive escort walks past him slowly. The eye contact is quick and unrevealing and suddenly it dawns on Liam. He's a guard too. Why would this boy trust him. He lets them pass, stomach churning and waits until they've entered the elevator before sprinting to the nearest toilet. This time the only thing he heaves is air and bitterness.

  


+

 

He nears the end of his own tour for the night, body feeling weak from all the emotions of the day. He presses his thumb against the sensory pad by the elevator that will take him to the fourth floor. It's only half of the sizes of the other floors, with much smaller rooms and one containment facility. All the doors are also of heavy metal, but just like the elevator require a digital identification. There are more guards here, two in an octagonal control room of reinforced glass, sitting in front of multiple screens, Liam flashes them his pass, and orange one (just one step away from red) and they give slight nods, appearing completely unconcerned by his presence.

 

He makes his round, glancing quickly in each cell, until he gets to a set of french doors. They look out of place in this cold grey hall, they are carved in solid wood and painted white, like doors in a beach house, a separation between the living and the kitchen.

 

Liam has never been on the other side. Not before now.

 

There’s no electronic pad on the side, no eye-laser identification, no one at the door to prevent him from going in, but he knows he doesn’t have the required pass to enter. He’s got a few steps to climb and a bit more trust to earn.

 

He pushes the doors opened anyways and they slide apart quietly. The walls here are wallpapered, long straight golden wheat on a off white background. It looks more like a home on the other side, with decoration and framed pictures, plants and a living room with cozy looking brown couches. It's a bit odd because the tiny living room is right in the middle of a circle of hospital beds, each occupied by little sleeping forms. His eyes quickly travels across every person there, looking for a head of curly hair. He let’s out a long breath he didn’t even realise he was holding when he spots it, almost completely engulfed under a thick grey cover. The boy’s breath is steady, given the slight rise and dip of his torso and the steady beeping of the machine monitoring his vital signs.

 

He takes a step forward, but feels a chill along his spine and freezes in his steps. There's a presence near him, like a hot breath along his neck all the way up to his ear. He tries to unsuccessfully stifle a shiver.

 

"Don't move." a soft voice tells him.

 

Liam feels like he wouldn't be able to even if he tried, feels stuck even though he knows he isn't.  He can't see anyone, but he feels the presence, a warm body pressed next to his. He shudders, wondering how come this is happening.

 

“You're worried about the boy?” the voice asks.

 

Liam doesn't respond. Won’t give out his thoughts so naively. A few bad experiences taught him this lesson a few years ago. Anyway, the helmet is supposed to prevent this, prevent those with mental abilities to pry into his mind. He’s confused, but can’t find his voice to ask all the questions that are rushing him.  

 

“He’ll be alright. Zayn helped him.” he’s asked again.

 

Liam blinks, head titling to the left, away from the warmth of the person he can’t see. Zayn helped? He wouldn’t know, he was made to leave the room, just as Zayn was being brought in, and little Harry was writhing and screaming louder than anything Liam had ever heard before. His heart rate speeds up at the thought, at the reminder of the distress that was so palpable in the room, so thick a knife could cut it.

 

“You’re not the only one that wants to help him apparently.”

 

At that, Liam’s head snaps back, the person has moved away and Liam whirls on himself, finally speaking.

 

“What? Who... H-how?” he whispers harshly.

 

Then he stills, doesn’t want his sudden reaction to be interpreted as a threat, as him simply being a Genesis puppet, playing the master’ game of reporting any suspicious activity, even amongst other guards. The voice is back, this time on his other side.

 

“A girl was trapped today. An outsider. She tried to infiltrate our system virtually.”

 

Liam can’t help the sudden suspicion that arises in him. Why is he being made privy to all this information? Is it a loyalty test? He still has a few steps to make before obtaining his red badge, the one thing he’s yearned for even since he first got in the company and was given a beginner’s white paper pass. Back then, he probably would’ve given his life for it; that red plastic card that practically gave them unlimited access to the whole facility.

 

He has already alienated his whole family by _joining the enemy’s ranks_ , as his mother put it when he told them about working for Genesis. At the time, he hadn’t bothered asking why. Didn’t think their opinions mattered much. They were of those who stood by when others got hurt, those who cowered even when their own son was endangered. Liam wouldn’t take advice from them.

 

Now though, now that he’s been here for a few months, the limb of a body doing the bidding of an invisible head, he wonders just how righteous the company really is. He hasn’t seen much result from the _help_ they supposedly give out. He hasn’t seen a person enter here willingly and he definitely hasn’t seen anyone leave. Maybe he has joined the enemy’s ranks and that is not where he wants to be. Still, he needs to thread carefully.

 

“I won’t ask much of you and no, you couldn’t catch me even if you tried, even if you tried to report me. But that’s not what you want is it?” the voice continues.

 

“What do you want from me?” Liam asks.

 

He’s already been in here for too long, without proper access. The two guards in the watchtower might get suspicious.

 

“You can help. You have to free this girl. You have to take Zayn to Louis. Together they can help. They’re the only ones who can do something. You have to do it quickly. There’s no time left.”

“What—” Liam’s question is halted by a swish of wind.

 

He turns around, seeking the warmth that was whispering to him, but he’s completely alone, room undisturbed, little bodies still sleeping soundly. He glances over at Harry and bites his bottom lip.

 

As he leaves the floor, he realizes that the guards are in the exact same position they were in when he walked past them. The moment he presses his finger on the pad though, their eyes dart to him. He flashes his badge at them and they nod before going back to their screens. Liam’s exterior remains poised, hair perfectly slicked back with gel, face clean shaven, eyes brown and yet professionality distant. But his heart is hammering as sweat rolls down his back, a new mantra echoing in his mind.

 

_“You have to take Zayn to Louis.”_

 

 

+

 

 

He manages to pull it off just day later.

 

Well, if he’s honest, he knows the feat is not only attributable to him. There are definitely other forces at work and maybe now he’s just a puppet in _their_ game, but it seems to be a fairer game, one that doesn’t involve inflicting unimaginable pain upon young boys.

 

The center looks just like a regular house on the outside, though nestled in a very upper scale neighborhood (to justify the gated doors, the security detail and the surplus of surveillance cameras). Liam always drives to few streets away, parks at a different spot every time and walks the rest of the way, whatever the weather might be like. Today he does the same, but after he passes the front gates, walks up the long driveway and reaches the front door, he is met with a loud buzz and a blinking red light telling him his orange card isn’t valid. That’s no good. He swipes it three more times before he’s right at the edge of panic. A booming voice shouts his name.

 

“PAYNE!”

 

He swirls around, with a soft “Sir?” that tries to conceal his hesitancy.

 

“You’ve been reassigned.” he’s told as a red card is handed to him.

 

Winston, the guard who just made a wave of relief wash over him has a wide grin splitting his face. Payne turns the card around, pressing the hard plastic in disbelief.

 

“Congrats Payne. You proved yourself yesterday. Discreet and efficient.”

 

Liam allows himself to fully relax, shoulders slouching and the tension in his neck ebbing quickly as the hint of a smile forms on his lips. Then it spreads, wide and gentle, eyes crinkling shut and he extends a hand to be shaken.

 

“Thank you. Thank you so much sir.” he says as his sweaty palm is squeezed up and down a few times.

 

Then he unclasps the old orange pass hooked on the retractable cord attached to one of his belt loops and puts it in the awaiting hand of Guard Winston. The red quickly replaces it and Liam bites his bottom lip to contain his smile.

 

“Well… this new position comes with extra work, extra responsibilities. Your first off-site mission is today Payne. The car is waiting. Follow me.”

 

Liam hitches his bag higher on his shoulder and does as he’s told, always does and tries not think of his encounter of the previous day anymore. He’s already thought of it all night. Wondered why he was approached, was he was chosen. Then he had to will himself to sleep to stop the paranoia from invading his mind. Maybe he was being tested, but question of ‘by whom?’ remains. He doesn’t know who he’s pleased so much. He could’ve brought it to the attention of someone superior to him that he was being asked to do break The Genesis Code.

 

He pushes all these thoughts aside when they reach a black SUV with thick, tinted windows.

 

“You won’t need this.” Winston says, pointing to Liam’s sports bag.

 

Liam hands that over as well, watches as the guard swings the strap over his head. He steps forward to open the car’s door on the passenger side, but a strong hand stops him.

 

“Remember to say hi to Louis for me.”

 

Before Liam can reply, Winston turn with a thin smile and makes a slow jog back to the house. He sucks in a deep breath; he can’t fuck this up.  

  
  


Zayn.

 

He hasn’t been able to relax since he got confirmation that he would be able to go out for a few hours. It’s a giddy nervousness, a tremor that makes the tip of his fingers numb. The numbness is probably more due to exertion, to doing too much with too little, for too long. He usually goes for an outing ever two week, but it’s been nearly two months since the last one now and he told them; he’s barely holding on. He needs his refill, needs sunlight, flowers and things that soothe him for his mind and body to heal themselves. He can take away other people’s pains and sorrow, but they’ll remain with him if he doesn’t get a release, doesn’t see or feel things that ease his spirit.

 

He’s surprised, though grateful when they told him that today would be the day. Despite Harry, despite the security breach that occurred during the afternoon. It hit him hard when he was taken from his room, legs heavy and mind clogged with screams and wet, shiny green eyes. He remembers trying to resist. Dragging his feet until he was lifted and carried. He remembers how from one room to the next next, muffled sounds turned into shrieks that made his skin prickle and his stomach lurch. He remembers shaking his head and begging, but being shoved forward nonetheless, hands forcefully pressed to the naked writhing form on the small bed.

 

He still can’t shake the images away, can’t ever forget Harry’s unnatural paleness under the harsh lights of the white sterile room, lying in a pool of his own blood. The needles, the masked faces and the loud beep of monitoring machines increasing. Zayn never stops hearing them, even under the screams and the pleas. His outing is now a matter of survival.

 

He rests his head against the window, watches it fog over from his warm breath and barely has the energy to startle when the door opens and a guard other than Winston slips in the passenger seat. Preston, the driver, doesn’t even blink. Zayn recognizes the face, but knows nothing about the man and the sudden change in a routine established years ago makes him sit up apprehensively. He looks frantically out the window, but Winston is far away already, standing on the porch with sunglasses on, hands clasped in front of him and a ridiculous large sports bag swung over his shoulder. Zayn can’t tell what he’s thinking.

 

 

+

 

 

The drive into the city is a bit awkward. The new guard introduced himself as Liam and went on talking about how exciting this all was, about his dreams and the low expectations he had of himself when he took the job, unaware that he would climb the ladder of success so quickly. Zayn observes him for the first few minutes, seeing all the crevasses of emotional damage in his mind and heart, but he soon tunes him out. There’s nothing he can do about it in the state he’s in. Doesn’t even know if he should bother. Even if he fears them, he has absolutely no respect for the uniforms, but rather, wishes death upon them continuously.

 

Eventually the kid shuts up (Zayn’s realizes that he’s naught but an overgrown child on his second sentence), and the ride resumes in silence. It’s often easy to forget that they’re situated in the very heart of the city, for how well the house is hidden. And hidden, meaning so inconspicuous that one might think it’s the home of some diplomat or wealthy political refugee (if one insists on explaining the presence of the round-the-clock security. They leave the cover of small streets behind to enter high traffic. It’s still the morning rush hours and what Zayn like to call ‘the regulars’, are heading to work, most likely unaware of the happenings just a few meters away.

 

“Where are we going?” Liam finally asks after a while, eyes wide open as if he doesn’t get to come and go as he pleases. As if he has a chip embedded somewhere in his body to track his every movement… well he probably does, but he’s clearly not aware of it. It’s just that he acts like a prisoner when he’s not and that makes Zayn unreasonably angry.

 

“Nowhere you can’t go on your free time.” Zayn replies dryly.

 

Liam’s eyebrows quickly dip, pinched lips turning down into a frown, but he doesn’t protest and all the fight that was building up in Zayn suddenly evaporates. He offended him. He’d like to laugh now rather, would like to understand how a guard in one of the most secret facilities in North America, is so unguarded, unprotected himself. Instead he just sighs, resumes looking at a world that to him, is accurately darker through the tinted windows of the SUV.

 

They end up at the Botanical Garden and even it’s a bit early, there’s a short, round bellied man in a dark blue security uniform standing at the tall metal door. He lets them in without question. They’re let in the tree garden, and the scent of magnolias is overwhelming in the morning dew. Zayn detaches himself from the group, leaving Liam and Preston behind with their arms crossed behind their backs. Though no one has said it, Liam probably gets that this is a place where he can walk freely for as long as he pleases.

 

Zayn doesn’t waste time in thanks, just walks to the trees, takes in their perfume with deep breaths, takes in their shapes and colors. The sharp shades of pink of the magnolia flowers, or the sparkling white as well, all covered in thousands of tiny droplets of water that make them look like jewels under the morning sun. As time slithers by he unwinds, shoulders slumping, hurried steps slowing down. Maybe he cries while feeding ducks by the pond.

 

When they’re done touring the site, it’s practically midday and Zayn feels a bit winded and hungry, though his mind is now a slightly more peaceful place, where screams are a distant memory, sadness just the slight prick of tiny needles. He finally acknowledges Liam and Preston again, when his stomach rumbles for the third time.

 

“I’m hungry?” he says, voice soft and pitchy, turning to them and they stroll slowly behind him in silence.

 

As much as taking pain away demands from him, refilling his being with positive things is just as overwhelming. He feels a bit engorged, like when he spent too much time in the pool as a kid and his skin turned pruny. He’s refreshed and his body is cool despite the beating sun, but his legs feel a bit weak and he’d like to sit down after hours of walking, especially since he suspects that there’s a mission at the end of this trip.  He doesn’t think that Winston and Liam have traded places for good fun. Since he landed at Genesis, he hasn't seen much of the city. The short travels to various gardens and greenhouses, or lakesides haven't given him a pulse of what life is like in Montreal, how fast it’s paced in winter, yet so much more relaxed and filled with never ending activity in summer. He tries not to dwell on how much he’d like to know. How much he’d like to return to the beat of his own hometown across the ocean.

 

Hunger satisfied by two veggie wraps, mind a bit more relaxed than it has been for the past weeks, he doesn't protest at being blindfolded and rendered invisible by Preston pressing a firm hand on his shoulder. Liam startles next to him, probably when Preston gives him the same treatment, but Zayn feels him straighten quickly and let’s himself be stirred by the firm grips on each of his arms.

 

“Where are we? In the city I mean… have I been here before?” he asks, not really expecting an answer.

 

Genesis doesn’t give, only takes from him. The only reason why he gets this favourable treatment is because he wouldn’t be able to flip a fleck of dust  if he had to continuously heal all their disastrous experiments without being able to heal himself.  There’s a beat of silence and Liam’s voice murmurs.

 

“We’re in the Old Port.” he seems the hesitate for a second, “by a museum.”

 

Zayn smiles as the sounds of the outside world fade. They’ve entered a building with heavy AC and he shivers in the sudden quiet of the echoing room. The sounds of footsteps are few and voices are thin whispers he can barely make out. Somehow, this doesn’t make him nervous. He can’t figure out why, doesn’t know where they’re taking him, but there is a whisper of calm in his mind, a whisper that reassures him that he’s doing something for the greater good. A good that will eventually free him from the grip of Genesis.

  
  
  


Louis.

 

It took Logan slapping him really fucking hard, to break him out of his stupor.

 

When they finally managed to sit his sister in a chair without disturbing her too much and without breaking the contact of her fingers with the keyboard in front of her, Louis sort of fell into a guilt induced trance, where the worse scenarios possible seemed to become reality in his mind. He succumbed to tears first, then rambling and finally fear of his mother finding out and bringing all her wrath down on him. She can fill a sunny sky with dark thundering clouds in a matter of seconds.

 

He’s a bit better now, even though his night was sleepless and he hasn’t let Lotus out of his sight from the moment she was trapped until now. He’s feels shaky with nerves, eyes sunken and hands twitchy. He knows he can trust Logan, would put his whole life in his hands, but it isn’t only his life this time. It isn’t even only his sister’s. God knows what they’ll do to Harry if they find out that he’s who Lotus was looking for. Logan told him not to worry, has been telling him since he brought Louis is tea at the break of dawn, but that’s what Louis does. He’s a fretter. That’s how he gets his job done, obsessing over every tiny detail, especially since he once got his fingers burnt. He never makes the same mistake twice. Meaning whoever came at him the first time, will never be an able shape to do it again.

 

He senses when other Unclassifieds are in the vicinity and he sits up in the foldable metal chair he placed right by his sister’s swivel chair to help keep her steady. They are the three Logan told him would be coming. A fader with the power of complete invisibility, a healer and a shielder, capable of apparently creating massive force fields. He guides them through, controls each step that leads them down to the basement. It’s only when he knows that he’s raken them all the way to the little alcove where he sits with his sister and that he still doesn’t see them, that he realizes that they entered the museum unnoticed, which is always better. He releases his hold on their minds and they appear before him a bit bewildered. He can identify them easily for how much their thoughts are screaming at him and his mind is too overworked to filter them properly.

 

He gets up so they can exchange quick handshakes and make introductions. He greets the healer first, sensing the discomfort and tiredness emanating from him, along with a subtle sadness and weakness. He’s too thin, but unimaginably beautiful, features like a finely carved masterpiece, wide and sad brown eyes adorned with shadow-casting long lashes, that flutter faster, the longer Louis stares at him.

 

“I’m Louis. Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming.” he says, voice soft, feeling like if he speaks to loud, the figure before him with evaporate or shatter in billions of tiny shards.

 

“Zayn.” the boy says, his hand soft and motionless in Louis’. His lips form a pout after Louis let’s him go, feeling oddly a little less tense than he was seconds ago.

 

He greets the other two, dressed in all black fatigues, the thick belts at their waists furnished with all sorts of devices, from plastic cuffs and needles, to taser guns. Louis can’t help the sudden surge of anger, when he looks at them, both standing ramrod straight in front of him, faces impassive… except for the Shielder maybe. His eyes won’t stop darting across the room, taking in every lit screen behind Louis, seeing the multiplied image of a frozen Harry on a blindingly white background. His eyes then avert when Louis extends his hand towards him, face flushing, eyes looking down with a hint of guilt. He’s tall and handsome, but evasive and surprisingly meek. At least, a lot more than Zayn who doesn’t appears to have any strength in him, who looks like a simple wind would carry him off to never be seen again. Louis can’t bother to dig and find out why, but the longer he thinks on it, the more he sees it, the softness under the hard shell and he shakes his hand a little longer when the boy stutters his name out.

 

“L-Liam. Nice to meet you too.” the guard says, a smile pulling at the side of his mouth.

 

Louis nods and turns to shake hands with the last man, who introduces himself as Preston. He is a company man, through and through. Hard shell with the hard interior to match. He’s practically a block of ice, but with a vengeful mind and that tickles Louis’ curiosity, makes him wonder what such a cold-hearted person  is doing helping them. He would know if he were to probe his thoughts, but he doesn’t do that to his fellow Unclassifieds and again, there is no time. They probably have to return to wherever they came from pretty soon and Logan warned him not to stall. Another opportunity like this might not arise again. Louis turns to his sister, glances quickly at the screens and knows that their eyes are following his.

 

“Harry…” Liam says softly, the first to take a step forward, his aura giving sudden bursts of energy Louis can only attribute to concern. That’s how Shielders are. They react to danger and create force fields to keep it a bay. For some reason, Harry elicits that reaction from Liam and… well that’s a good thing, even if Louis doesn’t know all the hows and whys.

 

“My sister got in yesterday… managed to get a hold of him, but she got caught.” Louis explains, looking down at where a distressed looking Lotus is still sitting with her face screwed in grimace, eyes as white as the screens before her. She’s had some muscle movement, eyes twitching, arms and legs jerking randomly, as if being conscious of her condition. Conscious that her mind and body are not connecting like they should and trying to break the gap keeping them apart. Louis has no clue how it works.

 

“It’s a virus. Like a cold or something.” Zayn says, voice so soft it slices across the tense atmosphere like a sharp blade and demands complete silence.

 

“Can you heal her?” Louis asks, voice just as tame.

 

Zayn looks around, eyes going over Preston and Liam, “I believe that’s what I’m here for?”.

 

 

+

 

 

Zayn can’t do it alone. Louis watches, unnerved as the thin boy who looks ready to fly off with at the merest of winds, presses the tip of his fingers to the sides of his sister’s head and closes his eyes. At first it looks like some sort of Ayurvedic treatment—something Louis dabbled into when he was getting awful migraines a year or so ago—when Zayn starts singing. At first it’s just a hum that slowly morphs into words, until he’s fulling singing, though in another language Louis doesn’t know. He’s a bit transfixed by the whole process, until his sister jerks violently in the chair, making all of them jump back, Zayn’s outburst accompanied by a shout of pain.

 

“What the fuck happened?”

 

“What was that?”

 

“The fuck….” Liam, Louis and Preston express all at once. Even the image on the screens shifted, turning Harry and the room he’s sitting in, into nothing but a distorted swirl.

 

“I can heal physical pain… I can’t counteract tracking devices and—that’s not my field.” Zayn explains, looking crestfallen as his eyes linger on the screen for a while before turning to the men gathered around him expectantly.

 

“I can help.” Louis says.

 

He desperate since he knows that this chance will not be given to him again, at least not in the foreseeable future. He extends a hand to Zayn who only after a slight hesitation decides to take it. He eyes Louis warily, watching as his eyebrows dip and his face blanches, grip on Zayn’s fingers tightening. Zayn can feel him in his mind, like a fleeting thought and when Louis’ expression turns sour, he knows that it’s because he’s seen what Zayn always sees. All the experiments, the pain and the tortured faces. He doesn’t mention it though, just places a hand on his sister’s head and says, “I’ll take you through.”

 

Lotus’ mind is a maze of dark corridors and unmarked doors reminiscent of the hotel in The Shining movie, Louis thinks. Some doors he doesn’t bother opening as he continues holding Zayn’s hand and drags him along in silence. By their colors or the sounds coming from the other side, the memories contained inside are obvious. Also he doesn’t want to pry; Lotus would be livid. He wordlessly calls for her though, wills her to reach out to him. He feels a pull that he follows and they turn at a corner, the dark patterned rug growing lighter, paisley swirls going from dark reds and browns to beige and white. He glances at Zayn who nods. The doors are all white and gray and it’s behind one of them that the finds her, laying on the ground like a broken doll, limbs askew and face covered in tears. She gasping for air, obviously in atrocious pain and she turns panicked eyes to him. Zayn doesn’t wait, just crouches next to her and touches her immediately, her body jerking as her pain seeps away from her and into the tips of his fingers, running up his arms in angry dark lines. His face twists and his eyes fill with tears, but her cracked bones are eventually all mended and she can sit up. She’s breathless and still reeling when Zayn collapses in turn, Louis grabbing him just before he hits the cold white tiles of the room.

 

“Please… let’s get out of here.” she says, voice raw and barely audible. Holding Zayn between them, they make a run for it.

 

+

 

 

They all sit in silence for a while after that, wait for Niall who promised to come and bring food and cold beers. Louis is sitting on the floor, his sister cradled in his lap and is brushing her hair soothingly. Her shaking hasn’t completely stopped but it’s less violent than ten minutes ago. Zayn also looks a bit overwhelmed and Louis extends a hand to him, instinct telling him what he should do to help.He follows his guts and for the ten minutes they spend waiting for Niall, he holds Zayn’s hand tightly and fills his mind with flowing rivers and mountains, with valleys of flowers and blossoming cherry trees. He even adds a roaming tiger, just for the sake of Zayn’s tattoo and watches as the boy’s shoulders slowly go down, as his jaw slackens and his eyes slip shut. When Niall finally pops in, the food is more than welcome, especially for Lotus who practically spent a day and a half cramped up and trapped in virtual hell on an empty stomach.

 

The silence that accompanies their meal is temporary. As soon as Lotus can hold her head up alone, the questions bombard her.

 

_“How’d you find him?”_

_“How were they keeping trapped?”_

_“Do you know how we can get him out?”_

 

“Guys! Whoa… relax a bit. I don’t know how I find things. I just do. I follow the path that looks more likely. Like if—if there’s a door that would say Harry’s room. I wouldn’t go there. I’d go in the pantry. But that’s a virtual system, so I’ve got find a crack or a dip somewhere. There’s always a fault—in any system there’s always one and… who are they?”

 

She glares at Liam and Preston. Obviously she must have seen their uniforms before, and she recoils when it dawns on her that they’re Genesis guards.

 

“Are you fucking crazy Louis?! What the hell… these are—”

 

“We’re here to help.” Liam cuts in, quickly motioning between himself, Zayn and Preston. “We were sent here… I don’t know why, or how this happened, but we’re not here to cause trouble.”

 

Lotus continues to eye him warily, though her shoulders slouch just a little.Her face grows extremely sad in a moment, eyes filling with tears and Louis knows, knows it must be about something too painful for her to bear. Lotus is usually too proud to cry, even in front of him, let alone all these strangers. She turns to Zayn, biting her bottom lip harshly and then releasing it.

 

“They’re experimenting on him aren’t they?”

 

Zayn nods.

 

“We have to get him out of there.” she whispers brokenly.

 

Louis pulls her closer, squeezes her harder.

 

“I promise you we will.” he says firmly, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking it out. Hope you liked in. In the next chapter I'll be introducing Harry, and Louis will try to get Gemma and Anne more involved.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, apologies for the insane length of time I took to be done with this chapter. I think I'll refrain from WIPs in the future ah! Second, thanks for those who have stuck around and bothered to send me asks about it. They were well deserved and needed kicks towards my google docs. Last but not least I'd like to profusely thank Leah for helping me out with this chapter. Hopefully we can continue working on this together. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Warnings for this chapter include: emotionally distressed Harry, emotional manipulation, talks of human experiments that could pass as torture.**

  

 

Niall.

 

Certain things in his life have been highly disappointing up to this day, but meeting this group of people so far hasn’t. He’s known he wasn’t alone for a bit now, has known about others like him, some with more _extravagant_ abilities. He can see people’s histories, trace their paths through life and sometimes even feel their pain, but he can’t take it away.

 

That’s why he sit in awe even after Zayn has been gone for about an hour, staring at the wall in front of him, but unseeing and deeply trapped in his thoughts. He wonders how it would work if he and Zayn were to use their powers on each other, who would give in first, for whom would the pain quickly become too much. It would be an endless loop of hurt and healing and pain… actually, it would be silly and masochistic. Yet, a tiny piece of him is curious, wonders if he could run his fingers along the fine line of that jaw and not flash into a jumble of mixed memories. If he would only flinch away from the prickly stubble dinging in his flesh… yes, there’s tiny bit of him that wants to know, wants to feel without feeling.

 

“You okay?” Louis says, making his way back into the living room and dropping on the seat next to him.

 

They’re back at his flat where he’ll be keeping his sister for a few days. He’s blatantly refusing to let her out of his sight, even after she told him that it would make the situation more suspicious to their mother. He promised to come up with a lie.

 

“Yeah, I’ll be alright, just a little—this is different than anything I’ve ever dealt with before. I just don’t know. I’m a bit scared if I’m honest. Like I know it’ll get worse and, yeah—it’s fucking scary.” he explains, looking down at the hem of his shirt he’s been twirling around his fingers.

 

“I know… I’m a bit scared too Niall. I’ve—I never did anything like this before. I’m just some scam to be honest. I charge people lots of money to do something that comes naturally to me, by making them believe I’ve got some sort of super ability," Louis says, in self-deprecation, "the irony".

 

Niall just nods in understanding. He knows what it's like, to awe people with something that is a natural, ingrained part of yourself, by making them believe it’s an aptitude you’ve had to work hard to acquire. He almost wound up on a televised show once, just before he met Logan, who basically snatched him off the street before he could get in his taxi. Logan who gripped onto his waist and placed a hand of his mouth to muffle his screaming as he dragged him into a van. Logan who left him shaking with the smell of metal and gunpowder, the stench of chlorine water and an amount of hatred so big, Niall had to be detained for a few days to stop him from attacking anyone who only so much as approached him.

 

When he was capable of talking without shouting, after having processed all these foreign emotions, he looked at Logan with a bit of pity.

 

 _“Y’a bit fucked up, ya know that right?”_ he’d said, making Logan explode in a brash laughter.

 

That was it. They were friends from then on, especially when Niall understood that he’d just been saved from exposing himself to the evil will of Genesis who would’ve probably tracked him down from the show, found him and experimented on him just like they were doing with Harry now.

 

“I don’t know how we can get to Harry though. Look what they did to your sister. Are we even like—how can we go up against them? We don’t have guns, we aren’t enough.”

 

“We’ll figure it out Niall. Liam and Zayn will help us, yeah?”

 

Niall can only nod again. His cheeks color and his throat feels tight at the mention of Zayn. Louis’ ensuing smile is so wide, the side of his eyes crinkle and he pats Niall on the shoulder comfortingly. He doubts Louis is seeing his thoughts, an invasion of long and thick eyelashes, brown skin and soft pursed lips, but he knows it shows on his face. Heat is working its way up from his neck to the tip of his earlobes. Louis, doesn’t comment on it.

 

He leaves a few hours later. He has to go home to take a nice cold shower, perhaps get some sleep and draft a plan. He has to think of his resources, of who he could bring on board to help them out. He has to also make sure that anyone he contacts has absolutely no links to Genesis and he might know just the guy… He calls the pub when he’s about 10 minutes away, order a burger and fries that he picks up before heading home. After his shower, he gulps it down while shooting Louis a text to let him know he wasn’t snatched up on his way back.

 

As he settles in bed, he thinks about his next move. He needs to call his cousin Theo back home. He’s the only family member that has been talked about extensively (aside from himself), been praised for his skills with electronics and how _‘since he was just a wee lad, he could take apart and put back together anything runnin’_ on electricity’. Niall knows though, he spent every summer with him for ten years, but not only that—he can tell. He can tell who is different and just how special their ability is. All he needs is contact. Which is what makes him an asset in this particular case, but a deadly weapon in the hands of Genesis.

 

 

 

 

Liam.

 

They’ve allowed Harry to go outside. Apparently, it’s the first time since he got here, that he’s allowed passed the front gates. Liam has a hard time believing it. Can’t conceive that people would treat a child like this, that Unclassifieds would treat one of their own so cruelly. But then, this is probably just an inch on the long road of evils that have been perpetrated in this house and Liam feels sick again, thinking that this is a place he’d dreamed of, this is something he wanted desperately to be a part of.

 

His grip is firm on the handles of the wheelchair he’s pushing. The thin body sitting in it is no longer shaking, no longer wracked by sobs. Instead, Harry’s gone eerily quiet and Liam can’t tell if he’s asleep or not because of the thick shades he was given to protect his eyes from the bright morning sun. He’s limp in the chair, shoulders slumped, his thin pale legs curved in, his bony knees clanking against each other with every bump in the grass. Liam is fighting himself not to put his hands atop Harry’s head and let some of his strength flow through him. He also has to do with the fact that when Liam tried to run a gentle hand through his hair after he was wheeled out of his room, Harry screamed bloody murder. It once again hit him with the harsh reminder that he’s nothing but a guard to him, a menace and most likely, an evil doer. This time, he doesn’t fight the force field he involuntarily projects, even if it only serves to protect Harry’s fragile skin from the too hot sun.

 

They stay outside for over an hour. Halfway through the walk, Harry sits a little straighter, his cheeks have a nice flush and he has completely stopped shaking. Liam gives him water and wishes that his gift was different, wishes that he could convey his thoughts to Harry without having to say a word and let him know that he has parents looking for him, that there’s actually a team of people with abilities who have dedicated their time to bringing him home.

 

“Don’t think so loudly.”

 

Liam startles at the sound, the deep raspy voice (probably from screaming so much), and he looks around quickly before looking down. Harry head is tilted back and he’s taken the shades off, so his eyes are squinted and a bit watery, but there’s a smile on his lips, which is a bit of a surprise.

 

“You can hear my thoughts?” Liam asks, astonished.

 

He thought Harry was a shifter and—

 

“I am a shifter. If I wasn’t in such a pitiful state, I’d probably change into you and get the fuck out of here.” Harry says matter-of-factly.

 

He put the shades back on, but let’s his head rest on the back of the chair.

 

“So did you hear everything I was thinking or…”

 

“I started hearing the bit about my parents, but… um, I tuned you out.” Harry says and right away, his shoulders hunch, his whole body drawing in on itself protectively.

 

“Uh… no don’t worry. You’re allowed to do whatever—I mean, it’s okay Harry. You can tune it out.”

 

Liam must be earnest enough, because Harry visibly relaxes.

 

“Do you feel better today?” Liam asks, stopping the chair under the shade of a tall tree. He walks around the chair and leans on the thick trunk to face Harry.

 

“I don’t know how you mean....” Harry squirms in his chair, fingers pulling at each other.

 

“Are you still in pain? Was pretty awful the other day.”

 

_STOP._

 

The voice echoes loudly in Liam’s mind and he startles, only to notice that Harry has completely pulled himself together, bent knees and thighs pressing against his thin chest.

 

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I just… I worry about you a little. I’m supposed to look out for you. That’s my mission now. You don’t even have to believe me, or trust me but I—I want you to know.”

 

Harry just shrugs.

 

“If you’re a shifter, how is it that you can read minds though?” Liam asks, pushing his shades atop his head and crossing his arms over his chest. Harry gives a small smile, a faux air of smugness on his face.

 

“I’m rare specimen. I am one of a kind, nature’s most valuable treasure.” he says with a detached tone, his words probably an echo of things repeated to him since he was brought to Genesis.

 

“Is that so?”

 

“It is.” Harry says, and a real smile stretches his face as he produces a force field. It doesn’t last and barely encompasses him, but it makes Liam blanche and Harry dissolves into laughter.

 

“I’m a shifter because I can borrow aspects from people. It can be their appearance, it can be just their hair color or eye color… it can be just their power.” he explains, still cackling at Liam’s startled expression.

 

“Oh… wow that’s—”

 

“Special? Magical, unique? Yeah, I guess.” Harry grows somber again, goes back to looking at his lap and fidgety fingers.

 

“It’s different. Maybe a little special, yeah.”

 

“I know I’m a freak, don’t sugarcoat your words. I don’t deserve it.” Harry snaps.

 

“Uh, Harry, you didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t your fault.” Liam says, a bit taken aback.

 

He wonders just how many lies they fed this kid. How much they must have twisted his perception of what they were doing to him.

 

“I let them catch me. T’was my first mistake.” he says in a voice so low, Liam has to strain to hear him.

 

“You might think that, they might have made you think that, but I’m quite certain no one would ever chose this as a life? Am I right or am I right?” Liam asks, tone slightly teasing.

 

It gets a tiny smile out of Harry who shrugs again, not looking up from where his hands are on his lap. Liam crouches down in front of him, placing his hands on the armrests of Harry’s wheelchair.

 

“Look at me Harry, please.”

 

Harry does, peaking through the thick curls falling in front of his flushed face. His eyes and cheeks are wet with tears, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

 

“For however long it takes to finally get you out of here, I promise to keep you out of harm’s way.”

 

Liam is a bit taken aback when anger quickly flashes across Harry’s features and that tells Liam he’s probably been tricked before. Genesis would—would test and try him, pretend to being nice and helpful, only to punish him in the end. There is no better way to break someone’s spirit. To make them believe that you’ll help, that there is help at all actually, that everyone and everything isn’t as bad as it seems, only to snatch their hope away when they most need it. Liam knows this feeling.

 

He slowly moves both hands to Harry’s cheeks and runs his thumbs across them, wiping away the tears. Liam stares straight into his eyes, hoping to convey how much he means what he says. He surprises himself with how much he’d suddenly be willing to do to protect this boy, what he’d be willing to put on the line to make sure he sees his family again. Liam thinks, his life even. He shivers when Harry lets his body fall forward, into Liam’s awaiting arms.

 

“Okay.” is all Harry says, face pressed against Liam’s shoulder.

 

“Okay.”

 

 

+

 

 

Thanks to Luke (another guard on their side) and his super-speed, everyone who is in touch with Harry has had their outfits equipped with the smallest microphones available, courtesy of Lotus’ ability to order from exclusive stores and wire money from random bank accounts almost as fast as it takes Luke to stick the chips on the guards’ shirt collars. Louis, Preston, Winston and himself have all got in-ears that allows them to track operations and movements. They need to be ahead, they need to anticipate if they really want to shut this place down by mid-week.

 

Niall told them his cousin Theo was already on his way from Ireland. With him and Lotus, this branch of Genesis will be disconnected from the rest of the organization long enough for them to move in and rescue all 67 occupants (Liam knows the count by heart). The whole house has to be shut down, communication between guards cut off and emergency system deactivated. The weaponry however has to remain on lockdown and the guards have to be contained. Logan has been charged with transportation, taking into consideration those who are too weak and need to be carried out.

 

Time doesn’t pass quickly enough. Every day that passes seems stretched out. All the while, they’ve managed to halt two other experiments that were planned for Harry and the more Liam understands about what goes on in those sterile white rooms, the more his heart breaks.

 

Thursday morning is bright, with a thin layer of mist rising up from the earth from the heat of the sun. Liam’s heart is thuddering in his chest as he parks his car and looks back at Lotus and Theo squeezed in the back seat amongst bags of equipment, and finally at Louis, seated right besides him.

 

Harry.

 

The morning finds him feeling nervous. He’s not even out of his bed and he’s already crippled with fear, like the end of the world, is right at this end of him putting a foot of the cold floor. He’d gladly remain buried under the covers, maybe fall back into the oblivion sleep provides, but he’s wide awake, with a tight knot around his heart and shaky numb hands. The feeling in itself isn’t new. He’s felt like this, from the moment hands pressed against his mouth to quiet him as he was forcefully whisked away from his bedroom. He’s been on edge ever since, always wary and tired, but too wired to sleep without the help of medication. He never knows how his day is going to turn out,... except for today. He knows he shouldn’t put hope into it, but for today he want to expect something different.

 

Liam promised him. He looked him in the eyes, hand on his heart and as earnest as could be and promised him.

 

Why his mind is willing to go on board with it is beyond him. Ever since that promise he’s been feeling even more nervous and he’s been angry with himself for even entertaining the thought that a guard could be trustworthy. He’s been taught too many lessons about trust at the heart of Genesis. It’s been drilled into him effectively in the first year he spent there, that it’s every man for himself. No one, absolutely no one has the best interest of others at heart, no matter how well they can pretend, no matter what credible tearful lie they can come up with.

 

Other Unclassifieds have come to him with plans of escape in the past, devising it with him over weeks, waking him up in the middle of the night, making him feel high on adrenaline and the conviction that in a matter of hours he’d be in his mother’s arms. He ran through supposedly secret underground tunnels, dodged laser equipped doors and ran across the large expense of rich green lawns under a bright moonlight, practically reaching the edge of the outside world, only to be met with laughing guards who then ‘punished him’ for his attempt. Later after his punishment, it was a guard who befriended him, protected him even, brought him outside snacks and gave him sparse news about his family.

 

Harry clung to him. Clung to news of Gemma, thinking of her hand running through his hair to soothe him when his body was out of whack. Thinking of his mother, worried and praying for his return. It kept his hope of getting out, ablaze. Until he one day acquired the ability to hear other people's thoughts and realized that all the kindness that had been shown to him was just a tool to better manipulate him. That the guard who often held him tight while he cried himself out was mostly gathering data on him, and that all the stories he was telling Harry about his family were mostly lies mixed with old information they’d garnered while observing them, before snatching him away. This guard was going to the others telling them how he was _'tired of the babysitting and making up stories to try and keep this fucking kid calm'_   and from there Harry blocked out the rest of his conversation, ignored the snickers and when the guard sat on the side of his bed that evening, his hand reaching for Harry’s curls, Harry sunk elongated teeth in the man’s arm and watched as he screamed and tried to shake him off almost losing his hand in the process. After also getting punished for that, locked in the dark for so long, he thought he’d lose his mind in the process, he promised himself to never ever again trust anyone.

 

His apprehension seems to have grounds at first. He crosses Liam’s path and isn’t even spared a glance, plus he can’t tap into his thoughts since Liam is wearing one of those damn Genesis issued helmets. So he’s tries so hard not to be disappointed. He should be passed that now, passed trusting and hoping, but he knows it can’t help it and hates himself for being so weak,

 

Somehow though, the day goes without incident and he doesn’t know why. Even if not invasive or painful, he always has tests to do. He’s monitored daily, tested to find out which new ability he has, or could acquire. It makes him all the more nervous to have a disturbed routine and even when he’s offered to go outside for a while, he derails into heavy breathing and is so agitated that he has to be sedated and put back to bed.

 

When he wakes up, everything is dark. His bed sheets are of a crisp white under the light of the moon sipping through his window and he runs his hands over the fabric gently before realizing that there’s something different about his environment. He turned to the monitor at the head of his bed that usually emits warmth and small beeping sounds, but is not now completely silent and apparently turned off. Then it dawns on him that the lights are all off, the only clarity coming from the moon outside.

 

“No, noooo, no no no….” he scrambles out of bed, ripping off the band tied around his arm, linking him to the monitor. It only takes seconds for his heart to launch itself into erratic beating and for his eyes to fill with tears of panic. He truly does hate himself.

 

“You did this. You—you fucking loser.” he keeps telling himself as he turns the knob of his bedroom door. Strangely it’s unlocked and simply swings open.

 

“It’s another test you fucking idiot. Stay in your room.” he berates himself with a harsh whisper, taking a step back and letting the door open all the way until it thuds softly against the wall behind it.

 

For a while, he stands there, two feet away from under the door frame, whole body shaken by uncertainty. He’s torn by the idea that this could be his chance, this could be his freedom, just as much as it could be his demise. After a few minutes of complete silence, during which he can only hear his own quick breath and speedy heartbeat, he suddenly senses that there is another person in the room with him, even if he can’t see them. His refined hearing catches the whistle of the air as they speed closer to him, their breath and heart beat faster than anything he’s heard before. It comes and goes too rapidly, and he’s alone again, holding his breath and clenching his fists so tightly, his nails are digging into his palms.

 

Before he can make another move, the guard Winston is materialized before him and as he opens his mouth to… he doesn’t know exactly, but before he can do it, the same rapid heartbeat thuds behind him. He doesn’t get to turn around, or realize what’s happening before a hand is pressing over his mouth and his bare feet are leaving the coolness of the floor. He goes limp. Whatever happens to him next will probably kill him, but he sort of dug his own grave. He trusted someone, **again**. He was stupid enough to trust anyone and this time, he’ll deserve it if they hurt him real badly. He actually sort of hopes they do.

 

He can barely gather his thoughts, besides the repetitive ‘I fucking hate you’ he tells himself in another burst of self-loathing, because everything is moving too fast. He feels like he’s strapped on one of the examination tables in the basement, put in a pressure room to see how much weight his body can handle until his bones give in and how quickly they’ll start to mend back even if the pressure never lets up. Though now it also feels like he’s trapped in a storm, the wind a loud sound in his ears. His eyes are squeezed shut against it, against his surroundings and against the reality of what might be unfolding around him. He’s ready for it, he thinks. He knew his last day would come eventually. Knew there would be an experiment he wouldn’t survive . All he can think of, is that deep inside, he truly would’ve loved to see his mother. Even if just a picture, just a glance of picture. Or that she would see him, smile her smile where her bottom lip is tucked under the front teeth, dimple caving in. She would cry, definitely and say: “Oh, sunshine…”, or something like that.

 

He feels the wail of despair get caught in throat, feels his eyes burn with sudden tears. The only think he can continue to hope for at this point, is that death will come quick.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please: comments/shares/kudos. Thank you for reading!


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